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“I am very weak.”

“Yes; from loss of blood; I will send you some whisky and milk.”

When the attendant appeared with the stimulant, Morton sickened at the smell of the whisky, but drank the milk. The man approved of the arrangement and disposed of the whisky. Having placed clean straw below Morton, he left him, barring the door. The soothing sensation of the wet bandage lulled him to sleep, and he slumbered soundly until awakened by the sound of voices at the door.

“Now, mem, you’d better go home and leave Jim alone.”

“You tell me he’s wounded, and who can nurse him better than his old mother?”

“Be reasonable; the doctor said he was not to be disturbed.”

“Oh, I will see him; look what I have brought him—a napkin full of the cakes he liked and this bottle of syrup.”

“Leave them, my good woman, with me and he will get them.”

“No, no, I must see my handsome boy in his uniform; my own Jimmy that never left my side until he listed the day before yesterday. The sight of me will be better than salve to his hurt.”